The Confession by Robert Whitlow

Author:Robert Whitlow
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2014-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Trish sat on a bench at the rear of the main courtroom, which was as empty and quiet as a church sanctuary on Monday morning. She looked up. There were flecks of paint beginning to loosen their grip at the creases where the elaborate crown molding met the ceiling.

All day she’d been praying for Holt Douglas. In her braver moments, she saw herself telling him she knew the details of his high school friend’s death and was ready to offer sympathy and help. A passage she’d pondered many times from 2 Corinthians kept rolling through her mind: Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. Time didn’t heal all wounds. Unlike physical scabs, emotional hurts were outside the body’s capacity to restore. They needed the supernatural balm of Gilead. And the verses in 2 Corinthians revealed that God wanted his people to join him in the healing business. If he’d let her, Trish could comfort Holt with the measure of comfort she’d received.

The tears in Holt’s eyes at the sandwich shop were signs of a grief that had no hope attached to its sorrow. His friend died, but God spared Holt for a reason, and Trish wanted to tell him that being thankful for the gift of life wouldn’t dishonor his friend’s memory. Rather, Holt’s existence was a flower growing out of dark soil. It should blossom with appreciation. And a godly gratitude would bring Holt a step closer to the Lord Jesus, whose love and forgiveness were the only remedy for the past and a sure foundation for the future.

Trish sighed. All her thoughts hadn’t been filled with triumphant faith.

In one imaginary scenario, Holt looked at her with disdain and told her to mind her own business. In another, he immediately started cross-examining her to discover why she wanted to dig up his past. In a third, he told her he’d called out to God for help and, hearing nothing, concluded there was no one there to answer. The back door to the courtroom opened, and Trish turned sideways. It was Holt.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said.

“That’s okay,” she said. “It’s been good for me to sit here for a few moments and be quiet. One of my favorite Bible verses is ‘Be still and know that I am God.’ ”

Holt gave her a puzzled look.

“Do you ever get quiet and pray?” Trish continued, trying to sound confident.

“No, but I’m sure I should,” Holt replied. “Let’s go to the jury room and talk.”

With each step, the place where Trish had been when she prayed for Holt seemed further and further away. The jury room contained a long rectangular wooden table surrounded by simple chairs. In the corner was an old-fashioned coatrack. On one wall was a chalkboard that gave the room a schoolhouse feel.

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